Mother. And we were awakened at dawning by the poor children of the village singing their joyous carols beneath our windows.
Myles. How I wish I could hear them!
Roger. The singing in our meeting on the Sabbath isn't very joyful, is it, Myles?
Myles. Beshrew me if 'tis. This is the way the elders and deacons stand and sing. [Myles and Roger stand side by side, eyes closed and hands folded before them, droning an old psalm tune.][23]
Tune: "Windsor."
My days consume away like Smoak
Mine anguish is so great.
My bones are not unlike a hearth
Parched and dry with heat.
Such is my grief I little else
Can do but sigh and groan.
So wasted is my flesh I'm left
Nothing but skin and bone.
Like th' Owl and Pelican that dwell
In desarts out of sight
I sadly do bemoan myself
In solitude delight.
The Ashes I rowl in when I eat
Are tasted with my bread
And with my drink are mixed the tears
I plentifully shed.
Mother [rising]. Roger and Myles, silence! I will not have this wicked mocking of our good elders. Haven't you heard the parson tell the story of how the bears ate the children who mocked Elisha?
Roger. Forgive us, Mother, we meant no disrespect.
Myles. But, verily, the sound of the singing maketh me almost as sad as the sight of the bears could.